Cleft in Twain the chronicles of Elenore Riddle
by Eight Riddle
Summary: Voldemort looks for a weapon to defeat Harry Potter and finds it in the shape of a young orphan girl named Elenore Brown. He adopts her and makes her his own, sending her to Hogwarts to face off with the famous boy who lived!
1. Prelude The Papers

Cleft in Twain

The chronicles of Elenore Eight Elysium Riddle-Malfoy

Lord Voldemort opened the paper, and frowned. It wasn't the daily prophet he was reading…he wouldn't find what he was looking for there. A stack of already devoured muggle newspapers sat on the dusty floor beside him, gathering dust. He clicked his tongue, still searching for the section he was after; the births, deaths and marraiges.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. He ran a long, pale finger down the columns of announcements, black and white ads with printed pictures of rattles and prams heralding the arrival of new babies in to the world. He stopped at one announcement:

Eric and Natasha Brown proudly welcomed their new born 

Baby girl 'Elenore Brown' in to the world at eight minutes past

Eight on august the eighth. Congratulations, Natasha and Eric,

May all our blessings be with you and little Elenore.

Voldemort's lips parted in a sick smile. He reached over for the other paper which lay on the top of the large stack to his left. It was dated almost six years ago, and bore the headline:

**Young couple die in house fire – gas leak blamed**

The article went on to describe how two people had died in the blaze – one Natasha Brown and her husband Eric. Six more were wounded, but remarkably, there were no more casualties. The Brown's two year old daughter, Elenore, had escaped without a scratch. A search was in progress for her closest living relative.

Voldmoert smiled again. There were no other relatives. He had made sure of that. Elenore had been sent, at the age of two and a half, in to a publicly funded orphanage, where she had lived all her years up until now – her eighth year on the planet. It was time.

Voldemort stood slowly, tossing the paper aside and making small clicking sounds with his tongue. Nagini slithered in to the room with a piece of parchment clenched in her toothy maw. Thin fingers reached out and took it from her, caressing the top of her scaley head. 

"Good girl, Nagini. You always bring me what I need."

Nagini rubbed against Voldemort's leg like some kind of gross cat, then slid out of the room in search of food. Voldemort had Wormtail tied up in the basement. Perhaps she would go and nibble on his toes some more.

Voldemort unrolled the parchment, and scanned it briefly with his bright crimson eyes.

"Sixteen RavenHill Road, London. Hmm…."

With a snap of his boney fingers and a puff of smoke, he was gone. The parlour was empty, and deserted. Nothing could be heard except for the muffled sound of a man whimpering, and a scaley tongue licking against human flesh.


	2. Chapter 2 Ravenhill Orphanage

Hi guys! Hope you liked the first chapter – here's a second, coming right up! I forgot to mention last time, but I don't own anyone except E(Lenore)! Plz don't use her without my permission and plz plz do R n R! If you review my fic I promise to review yours! Thanks guys! Peace + love!

Eight

CHAPTER TWO (or sort of chapter one cause the other one was kind of an introduction) – RAVENHILL ORPHANAGE

Voldemort stood outside the dingsy building, staring up at its gothic turrets and Victorian balconies. It looked like a haunted house at a fairground, or a stately manor, fallen in to disrepair. The windows were illuminated, but borded up by what looked like old packing crates and newspaper. A tiny bit of light shon through them. In the garden, mangy cats scrounged for scraps around tipped over dustbins, spewing rubbish in to the weeds and cracked pavement.

He walked up to the door, and knocked using the big brass knocker.

A thin, boney woman answered the door. Her hair was pulled back in a bun making her look unfriendly and mean. Voldemort eyed her almost hungrily.

"YES?" she snapped "Can I help you? It's a bit late for a health inspection, you know, mr….?"

"Riddle." Voldemort managed to say the name without too much disgust. In the years since his ritual in the graveyard his looks had returned to him, at least somewhat. His eyes were still red, so he wore dark glasses.

"I don't know a Mr Riddle, sorry."

"They won't think very kindly of you if you don't let me in…" his tone was pleasant, with an underlying menace. The woman stepped back fro mthe door, admitting him in to the orphanage.

"Alright, alright…but I'll be calling your supervisor tomorrow, this is unprecede-…"

Voldemort did not like being scolded like a child. There was a flash of green light, and the woman lay dead on the floor. Taking a moment to check for sounds of other humans in the immediate area (there were none) Voldmort stalked off in to the darkness.

--

Upstairs in her room, Orphan#88, Elenore Brown, was getting ready for bed. She pulled off her plain gray smock and reached for her standard issue cotton nighty, pulling it over her dark head. Her hair was surprisingly glossy and clean for an orphan, despite the fact that she was only permitted tow ash it once a week. Her crystalline blue eyes stared out blankly at the other rows of cots, their occupants already snoring soundly. Her dark brows furrowed. She hated this place.

There was an odd glow of light from the hallway, and a muffled scream. Elenore turned just in time to see a man enter the room. He was tall, with dark hair, wearing an oddly old fashioned suit and dark glasses. She blinked up at him, her ivory skin shining slightly I nthe dim light. She wasn't afraid.

Voldemort smiled, slowly. This was her. This was the one. He knew it immediately.

"Elenore?"

"…yes?"

"You're coming with me."

Hesitantly, he removed his glasses. His eyes flashed red. Elenore smiled the same slow smile he had smiled just a moment before.

"….youre the lonely man. The one I've been dreaming about. Aren't you?"

He seemed surprise. He hadn't expected this, so early. But he nodded.

"I'm going to take you away from here. I had to live in a place like this once…I know what it must have been like for you. But you don't need to worry anymore…"

He held out a thin, birdlike hand to her.

"Daddy is here."

Smiling, Elenore took the Dark Lord's hand, and allowed him to lead her in to the hall, stepping over the lifeless body of the night-nurse, without even noticing.

That's all for now! Stay tuned for chapter 2 or 3 where Elenore will grow up a bit and we will find out more of voldemort's plan for her!11


	3. Chapter 3 Wormtail's lesson

Hi guys! Ok, I actually haven't touched this fic in like three/four years so this is the only chapter I've written –recently-. Please excuse typos/spelling mistakes in the first two chapters/the first chapter and the prelude. Hopefully this chapter (where we will really get to the guts of the story!) will be a lot better written ;; - As always do R and R, and I will try to get back to you and review your fics too!   
Much Love,

**EER**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, save for (E)Lenore. Any resemblences to persons living or dead is purely coincidental **

**--**

It was a quiet, unusually frosty August morning. The sun was just beginning to peep over the broad brown shoulders of the trees and bracken surrounding the small, stately property, casting an eerie, misty sunlight over the lawn, with it's overgrown topiary bushes, and bramble-roses.

A ray of sunlight, through the window, alighted on the face of a slender, yet well-shaped teenage girl. In the washed-out dawn light, she looked pale, though it was hard to tell if this was her natural colouring, or simply the work of the milky sunlight. Her dark hair (long), fanned out around the pillow, brilliant and glossy, as though she'd spent hours in a salon, rather than hours sprawled out in her large, comfortable bed.

Her eyes opened, slowly – brilliant blue orbs staring around the room. For a moment, it seemed she didn't recognise it. Her brows furrowed.

She'd had that dream again. A dream about a burning house – her parents, both dead – an orphanage, and those dreams-within-dreams of a man – a lonely, tall man, with a dark past - …he rescued her.

She shook her head, sitting up, trying to rid herself of her night visions. They were just dreams. Silly dreams, really.

Rolling out of bed, she crossed to her mirror, reaching unconciously for a brush to run through her lengthy, raven hair. She studied herself critically for a moment, before pulling off her white night-dress, reaching for her underwear which lay draped over the back of an armchair, as it always did. She liked things tidy. She liked to lay things out before she went to bed.

Today seemed like it might prove to be quite warm. Though the air outside was misty, full of frost, it would no doubt heat up once the sun was properly risen. She selected a blue silk camisole and a short black pleated skirt, tugged them on, and descended the curving mahogany staircase, in to the breakfast room.

"Morning Dad!"

Voldemort smiled, lowering his copy of _The Daily Prophet_. "Good morning, Lenore. And how did you sleep?"

"Alright." She plopped down in to a chair beside him, reaching out for the toast rack. "I had some weird dreams, but other than that, I can't complain. You?"

Voldemort laughed, sardonically. "I never sleep."

"Oh…" she grinned, looking up at him over her slice of strawberry jam smeared toast "That's right."

"Lenore, I have some important business to attend to, today…"

"Tell me something I don't know." She replied, sassily. He always had important business to attend to. He never told her what that business might be, but she rarely saw him between the hours of 9am and 12pm. She didn't like to ask where he went. It didn't seem to be any of her business.

"Yes, well…" he frowned slightly, his ever-youthful countenance becoming, for a moment, wizened and old. "This time, dear, it involves you."

"Me?" she blinked. As his only daughter, she knew she was important. She knew someday he would tell her all the secrets he'd kept from her – what his plans were, where he went everyday – but she never expected to be a part of them. For the past 16 years, he'd raised her, schooled her, dressed her, fed her, loved her, looked after her better than (she was sure) a mother could have. But what in the world could he need her for? He always seemed so capable.

"Yes, you." He stood up, extending his hand to her. "Have you finished your breakfast?"

"….I….uh…sure…." she let the toast drop back on to her plate, jam-side-down. It could wait.

"Good….then come with me…"

--

Voldemort led Elenore down the hallway, past the formal sitting room and dining rooms, and in to his study. The room was paneled wood and green leather, and had an odd smell – something like a mix of tobacco and cologne. She'd been in here before, though only on a few rare occasions. She liked to look at the books – arranged on a myriad of floor to ceiling bookshelves – all on advanced magical topics – topics she couldn't hope to learn about, in full, for some time. In the corner, Nagini was curled up, great coils of white underbelly heaving as she slept. Elenore rubbed her head gently as she passed her, hissing a few soothing, affectionate words in parselmouth.

Voldemort smiled. He loved to see his little girl display her powers, like this. Parselmouth was rare. It would command her a good deal of respect, with the right people, when he sent her back. It hadn't been easy passing it on to her, either. Nor had giving her normal magical ability. The series of complex rituals had left them both bruised and broken – so much so that he'd had to modify her memory, so as she forgot the harrowing ordeals. But the results had been worth it.

"Lenore…here, please…" he beckoned her away from Nagini, pressing down what looked like a screw in one of the bookcases. It acted as a trigger, springing open a hidden door in the floor.

"A trapdoor…?" she laughed "You're so sneaky, daddy!"

"I certainly am." He conceded, ushering her over to the dark hole. "Down you go, then. There's a ladder. It's perfectly safe."

Nodding, Elenore backed down in to the little tunnel, finding her footing easily, and disappearing into the darkness.

After a few moments, Voldemort followed.

--

As Elenore's feet hit the stone cold ground, a few torches sprung to life in their brackets around the surrounding dank, slimy walls. Voldemort stepped on to the ground just behind her, and lowered his wand.

"Do you remember the name of that spell?" he quizzed her. He liked to make sure she was recalling all this -–even the elementary spells he'd taught her years previously.

"Lumos. Yes. I remember it." She rolled her eyes "Really, Daddy, I'm not stupid…but…where are we?"

She gazed around. It was so dark, and gloomy. Rows of what looked like cells ran the length of both walls, though they all seemed to be empty. Except, that is, for the very last cell. A small, indistinct whimpering seemed to be coming from it.

Voldemort led her towards the cell. In it, cowered a small man with squinty, weeping eyes. He was utterly wretched to look at – all in rags, his hands bent and crippled like rats paws. When he saw The Dark Lord, and his chosen daughter, he shrunk even further back against the wall, whimpering. Elenore noted that one of his hands was silvery, and looked to be made of some sort of metal, though it was just as crippled as his normal hand.

"This…" Voldemort began "…is Wormtail. Say hello, Wormtail…" the Dark Lord rattled the bars of Pettigrew's cage, viciously.

Wormtail whimpered. "…hello….wormtail…"

Elenore laughed, cruelly. She'd never really given much thought to how she felt about imprisoning human beings, but surely this one deserved it. He was so weak, and faded. So worthless. Her lips twitched up in a small smirk.

"Who is he, father?"

"My liability." Voldemort sighed. "He was useful to me, for a time, but now that I have no immediate need of him, this is the safest place for him. Sadly. I wish I could trust him enough to let him out…or even to feed him, but…" he shrugged "You have to be careful to whom you bequeath such privaledges, Lenore."

She nodded, slowly. "I understand."

"I am showing you Wormtail…" he pre-empted her next question "Because you need to understand the severity of what I am about to tell you. The repercussions, for those who fail me. And believe me…" he turned to her, running a hand along her cheek, gently, "I know you will not fail me. But you have to learn…"

Elenore nodded. She had known, already, that her father was involved in something serious. That was why she wasn't allowed to go to a normal school – to play with other children, when she was younger – even to leave the house. He'd told her it was for their safety. That one day, she would be able to be free of the dusty, musty old estate. That she could meet others like her – interact with them. But not for now. For now, she had to be still, and be safe. For his sake and her own.

"Elenore…" he knew she had drifted from his words. "Listen…I have told you that we are on the run. That we must hide. That we are fighting a war, against evil you cannot imagine. But I have not told you your part in this." He swallowed. "it is time, now. Time that I did."

Elenore nodded, her raven hair glistening in the flickering torch light. "Tell me, father."

--

**Ok so next time you get to find out what his plan is! Heh. I promise! I will write that chapter now, actually, but I thought I should end this one here – too long, otherwise! As always, R and R! It's fun, kids!**


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